


John's Favorite Color

by purpleshockblankets



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, It's For a Case, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, shirtless sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:39:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleshockblankets/pseuds/purpleshockblankets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John just wants to relax when he gets home. But really, when does anything happen the way he expects? And how can he resist Sherlock's change in appearance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Favorite Color

**Author's Note:**

> *Thrusts my first (Ever!) fanfic at you*  
> *Runs away flailing*  
> (I hope you like it, I studied Sherlock in the purple shirt of sex and Benedict's eyes for very long periods of time, just for you! <3)

“A witness' statement depends on it, John.”

Which didn't lessen John's shock in the least. He had just returned to 221B after a long day at the surgery, wanting nothing more than to grab a hot cup of tea, drop into his armchair, and watch crap telly. What he hadn't counted on was walking into the front room to find his flatmate stretched out on the sofa, shirtless and staring into the eye sockets of the skull he held a few inches from his own face. As unusual as the position was, it was not what had John standing in the doorway with his bag still clutched in his hand.

Sherlock's wildly curly hair was purple.

“Really, John, do close your mouth. If I wanted to inspect the work of your dentist I'd ask.”

John blinked twice before finally dropping the bag in the corner and shrugging off his coat, not taking his eyes off the mess of dark purple framing his friend's face. It was about the same color as that one shirt Sherlock had that brought out all the colors in his eyes.

“A case?” He asked vaguely, taking in the small spot of dye on the side of Sherlock's nose.

“Obviously.”

“Right. And you're shirtless because...?”

A huff of annoyance. “Really, John, the ease at which your intellect escapes you is quite worrying. Dye is a messy medium, and it would be irrational to assume that clothing will remain spotless.”

John raised an eyebrow. “So...?”

Sherlock sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. “The shirt I wore during the process is now stained, and I will not disregard that fact and allow it to stain the furniture as well.”

“Doesn't mean you can't put on another shirt, does it?”

“I don't see why it would matter either way.”

John could see why it would matter. Now that he had adjusted- slightly- to the change in his friend's hair color, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his gaze from roaming over the expanse of bare skin on display. He had, of course, seen Sherlock without a shirt before- the most memorable time being that day in Buckingham Palace when Mycroft had stepped on the sheet Sherlock had been wearing- but he had never before seen his torso smudged light purple on the collar bone and just to the right of his navel, and the splashes of color drew attention to the pale contours of Sherlock's chest. 

He turned around sharply as Sherlock lowered the skull, giving John his full attention. He was not giving Sherlock the opportunity to deduce him right now. He could practically feel the other man's eyes on him as he walked into the kitchen. He needed to make tea. He needed to grab a bite to eat. He needed to sort the refrigerator by color and expiration date. Anything to get his mind off of his mate's bare chest and purple curls.

“John.” Sherlock's voice was closer than it should have been. He'd followed him in then. John kept his focus on filling up the kettle.

"John." His flatmate's hands came down on the counter in front of him, trapping him in with his arms. John could feel the warmth of Sherlock's body against his back. What the-?

"Uh, Sherlock? What are you-?" John started, but was interrupted.

"You didn't really think I haven't noticed, did you? " There was a light brush against the hair on the back of his head that almost felt like Sherlock nuzzling with his nose... but no, it couldn't be. Focus on the conversation Watson!

"I, uh... noticed what exactly?"

"The staring, the dreamy expression, the way... your eyes... wander," Sherlock breathed quietly into his ear. It was all John could do to stand still.

"I didn't- I mean, I don't...." The kettle was overflowing into the sink, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it off.

"There's no point denying it, John, I've observed it on more than one occasion." Humans shouldn't be able to purr. Especially while speaking in a deep baritone. When did their kitchen get so bloody hot?

Without warning, the body pressed against his was gone. John exhaled slowly and quietly. Good. This was good. He needed room to breathe, to think, to figure out why Sherlock's moving away made him feel so disap- relieved. Figuring it was now safe to turn around, he rotated, and bumped right into the other man's still bare chest. He backed up a step and hit the counter, and Sherlock moved forward to block him in again. His face was so close, all that purple and the blues, greys, and greens of his eyes overwhelming. 

"The question is, Dr. Watson, now that it's out in the open, are you going to do something about it?"

He couldn't think, couldn't find the words to answer with, and instinct kicked in. His arm came up, his fingers tunneled into those gorgeously tempting curls, and he pulled his best friend's mouth down to his. If he'd expected Sherlock to be shocked, he'd have been proven wrong. Sherlock responded immediately, moving his mouth against John's and reaching to cup his face. The kiss went on for what seemed like forever, and John was vaguely aware of how very cliche that was, but couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't pull away until he heard the sound of the faucet being turned off behind him. Sherlock leaned his forehead against John's.

"Finally, John." John chuckled and stroked the curls under his fingers.

"Finally," he murmured back, and decided purple was his new favorite color. At least, until three months later, when Sherlock dyed it navy blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I lied, I studied them for me too. I hope you liked it, like I said, it's my first. Feel free to leave comments or suggestions, I love you just for reading!  
> ~Shock


End file.
